


Ready for that lonely life to end

by wordsinpaper



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M, Spoilers for 1x07, here be angst my friends, this is all from Connor's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2599445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinpaper/pseuds/wordsinpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on what Connor could have possibly been thinking and feeling throughout 1x07. Expect it to be sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready for that lonely life to end

**Author's Note:**

> If you've seen the episode, the feels are pretty much the same. Except maybe a little bit more, because this is sort of an insight of what Connor may have been thinking and feeling throughout the same thing. Poor guy was a mess, man. I don't claim to know for sure what was going through his head in canon. This is my take on it. Title from Gotye's "Save Me" (which, ironically, hasn't happened just yet to our dear Mr. Walsh). Also, the ending bit, totally my own thing. It felt weird if I were to end it where the episode did for him.

Connor’s phone buzzes. Another guy looking for a hook-up.

He's tired of this, but he's after... He doesn't know exactly what he's looking for. Sex for him is always good and he gets off just fine, but lately it hasn't been _great_. There's been that little _something_ constantly in the back of his mind.

He meets the guy at a bar, they have sex in a bathroom stall – he hasn't done beds in a while either – and as soon as it's over, there's that apathetic feeling; that void.

Getting home only makes him face yet another emptiness in his life. He takes a shower to get a renewed sense of cleanliness, washing away the sweat that brought him nothing more than a momentary blip of pleasure.

He heats something up, but doesn't actually eat it all. He checks his emails and falls on his bed, not even bothering with his clothes.

The morning starts way too early for him, but that's how it goes when you work for Annalise, work 24/7, no sick days.

The coffee keeps him awake, but his brain is still playing around with the remnants of his dream, like a kid pushing the food in his plate back and forth. He runs his hand through his hair and slams the door shut, hoping that'll clear away the image of those eyes, that smile, … — and damn, there he goes again.

So he tries to busy himself with the case, feeling confused and betrayed by his own mind playing him like that.

Frank hands him a file. They need to find a way to keep Lila’s body buried. He focuses on the pages and forgets everything else for the moment. Except Michaela is now talking in the background.

“Is it okay if I take a couple hours off on Wednesday? I just got a call to come in and interview at Sterling & White.”

Which, wait, what?

“Isn't it a little early for summer associate interviews?”

“I guess they start at the top of the class and work their way down.”

And he’d totally answer her… if he was at the top of his game, which he totally isn’t right now. It doesn’t matter, he’ll get back to her later. Now he needs to help on the case, make himself useful. Do something right for once in these past few weeks.

He's distracted by his own thoughts when suddenly someone says his name.

What? Oh, he knows that face. But the name, uh.

Not soon after, there's a "slut" comment thrown in there, and he wishes he could say this was the first time he's heard it, but he's grown used to it being thrown around and him remaining unaffected.

Somehow, this time it sounds different. It's not that he's not capable of... He just likes to keep it casual, okay? He hasn't found that special spark or whatever yet. That's all. He's been there before. A place with feelings, where _‘I wanna be with you forever’_ was all that mattered. It didn't end well; forever didn't last as long as he had expected. So he tried a different approach. And here he is.

Michaela, as usual, doesn't miss an opportunity to bring Oliver up in a conversation, always aiming to hit him where it hurts the most.

“Really? You've gotten naked with so many boys since hacker broke your heart, you can't even remember their names?”

Well, the joke's on her, because he doesn't care. He doesn't. He's not broken. He wouldn't let someone do that to him. Again. And Oliver didn't break him because there was nothing to break. He'd never put his heart on the line like that. He totally hadn't, he's sure. Mostly sure. Kinda. Maybe?

No. He's okay. He never really wanted anything too serious, anyway. He does not have a broken heart, no matter what Michaela says. She thinks she knows it all...

“The important thing is, they remember mine.”

His phone buzzes again, but now is not the right moment. He neither has the time nor the presence of mind to actually indulge.

He's been avoiding certain places lately, taking longer routes to avoid certain streets, too. Deep down he knows it's silly, but the bigger part of him is just avoiding, avoiding, avoiding, because if he doesn't risk it, nothing can ever go wrong again, right?

Besides, it's all much less complicated if names come and go in different places, at different times. The answer to _‘wanna get a cab and take this somewhere more comfortable?’_ is the only thing that remains unchangeable, _‘not really, no’_. The less personal they get, the better. He can deal with it this way.

No strings, no attachments, no complications. No names, no personal information. No feelings, no broken hearts.

Back to Annalise’s, he’s on his laptop, having decided that it’s time to push all of this to the back of his mind, and get back to work. But it's proving to be something so much harder than he had first expected. Soon enough, while researching for their case, he ends up on Oliver's profile. It doesn't have to mean anything if he doesn't think too hard about it, right? Besides, he's just curious to know what he's been up to. That's all.

Michaela walks into the room, and at least falling into their banter is something that's familiar to him. His brain is on auto-pilot with the biting remarks.

“They didn't hire you in the room? That's a bad sign.”

Except she then sits beside him and catches him checking Oliver’s profile. She gives him that _‘really?’_ look.

“Maybe if you stopped stalking your ex online all day, you’d actually have some interviews of your own.”

Which... There's so much wrong with that sentence, he doesn't even know where to start.

But he's totally not stalking him. He slams the laptop shut and hugs the pillow in his lap. And no, he's totally not acting like a child. He hugs the pillow tighter and forgets about big smiles and drinks with two cherries.

So when later on Laurel points out the guy is coming their way again, hey, it's his chance to prove he can do this, because he totally can. He can start with a dinner or something, see if there's anything there apart from the obvious sexual attraction. He tests the waters.

“There's a bar across the street. Let me buy you a drink, and if I prove worthy of your time, we move into dinner.”

“A date,” he summarizes. And, yeah, okay, we can call these things by their names. He’s an adult now, he’s not afraid to use the right words. Words can’t hurt him anymore.

But the guy goes again about how he doesn't remember him or what he told him or whatever – which was the whole point at the time, so...

“So, you also forgot that I have a boyfriend.”

And, well, isn’t that nice. You had one job, Connor…

“Relax. We met on Humpr. I barely remember, too.”

He's torn, because he was looking for _a special something_ , a connection with someone new, and here he is, about to have sex with a cheater, again.

“How about I make you remember?”

He's taunting the guy, wants to leave a mark behind. He needs to know that he won't be forgotten no matter what. And maybe there's some sort of transference going on, because he's pretty sure – actually, he's _absolutely sure_ – he doesn't care if this guy will remember him in five minutes or in five weeks, not really, but he knows exactly who he hopes won't forget him anytime soon.

“Now I definitely remember.”

He pays little attention to it, already busy kissing and biting his way down this guy's – Julian's – neck, and that’s when he realizes that this is not working at all for him; not for what he had in mind, at least. So he decides to move it along, pushing the guy against the stall and get this done and over with.

Having sex with someone who's supposed to be in a committed relationship with someone else leaves a sour taste in his mouth. The guy is pulling his pants back up and muttering about how Connor better remember his name next time they find each other.

But he's not even considering it. He doesn't think he can do that again. It hits too close to home to go through with it. He obviously didn't pay attention to that detail the first time around – he probably didn't even hear half of what the guy had said, it was a surprise to him that he could actually remember his name after searching through the fogged memory of one of his many one-night stands since… – but he can't push it to the back of his mind now. He pushes out of the stall and splashes his face with cold water.

He almost doesn't recognize himself in the mirror.

Get it together, man. Don't be weak. This is nothing. None of it mattered, so you shouldn't feel bad about how things ended. Let it go.

Back to the case, they need to figure out what the DA's play is. They're going to have to get the info from willing sources. He can do this. If there's anything he's managed to do successfully plenty of times before was get the necessary info, no matter the costs.

_No matter the costs._

Which is why he's not so sure how he ended up sitting with a glass in his hand and a woman sitting beside him talking about a previous failed relationship.

And, man, he was so on that boat before, wasn't he?

“I actually just got out of a relationship myself.”

His vision is slightly trembling and unfocused, but he's got it. He tried to run away from it, but what they had was something that made him quite happy. Surprisingly. Until, of course…

“What was her name?”

She thinks he's talking about a girl. That's fine. He can do pronouns.

“Olive...”

...r. Sweet, sweet Oliver. So funny and cute when he got all shy. Oh, how it did things to Connor when he got embarrassed and started stuttering. But that smile.

_'You love me and you wanna have my babies. I know.'_

That playful smirk. He had to do a double take and record it to memory. Stupid. Why did you have to go and do that?

“So, I know that I should apologize, but I... I mean, is there anything that I can actually say that... that... that'll fix it? I mean, I-I screwed up big-time.”

And he thinks he gets it now, why Oliver was so mad and kicked him out.

They were slowly moving in the right direction in their... Relationship, right? Because that was what they had then. They'd moved past casual sex. There were dinners and lunches and sometimes just talking about work and hanging out. It wasn't a big deal just yet – which is probably why he didn't see it until it was taken away from him – but things had definitely shifted.

And then Connor had to go and screw it up.

“He... S-she... She hates me. She hates me. I mean, I get it... I'm the bad guy,” he says, more to himself than to the woman listening to him.

Because it was him who destroyed it in the end, wasn't it? It had been Oliver to officially break it off and kick him out, but it was Connor who dug that knife in, wasn't it?

And he wants to apologize. He just wants to make it better. People get second chances all the time, don't they? At least in the movies they do.

But... did that dinner thing count as Oliver's second chance? No. That was a test. That was probably the line in the sand that kept the casual sex with occasional hacking benefits on the side from the... developing relationship stuff.

And Connor missed all the signs. Figures. Stupid, stupid...

“I mean... I don't know. You could give her flowers,” the woman suggests.

Okay! He can totally do flowers. That lifts up his spirits a little. If there’s a way to fix this, he’ll do it. Whatever it takes.

He thanks her and tells her he’s going to try and apologize to him… uh… _her_. Definitely her.

He agonizes a few minutes over picking the right flowers for this. He wants something simple, an olive branch. Ha! _Olive branch_. Alcohol does such funny things to his brain. Anyway, he ends up going for white roses.

Walking up those stairs after so many weeks...

He's not even doing anything special with anyone right now, but there's a nervousness in his step, an anxiety gripping his chest, doubt and insecurities plaguing his mind. _But his heart_ … His heart is there. All in. He can feel it now. _That thing_. He's doing this. He'll fix it and they'll get through this; _together_.

Filling his lungs with air, he knocks on the door.

For a few agonizing seconds he falters, mixed thoughts crossing his mind.

Is he going to be there? Is he going to open the door? Oh god, what am I doing? He hates me, he hates me.

The fear of the unknown gets the best of him. Maybe he's not even home and that's why he's not answering. Or maybe he saw that it was him and...

He chickens out. It was so stupid of him to come here. What is he going to do with that bouquet?

He looks around. He decides to put it down at the door of 304, that seems-

The door behind him opens and his heart jumps. Okay. Time to face the music.

But. Wait. That's not Oliver. Did he move?

“He's in the shower.”

Oh. _Oh_. Uh.

He feels silly now. Of course there's already another handsome guy with a velvety voice answering the door. It's not like he meant anything to Oliver. Not after what he did. Why would he bother crying over Connor and waiting for him to get his shit together when all Connor did was mess things up and ultimately ruin the good thing they had going on?

Oliver deserves only the best. And Connor? He's so far from that, it feels like he's in a completely different galaxy. He's the worst. He's used and broken. God, he's so broken he wants to laugh until he cries, because even Michaela was right about him. And he kind of wants to die a little, because his last few days – weeks, really – have been torture.

He turns to leave and stars walking away. But the universe clearly isn't done with him yet, because this guy knows who he is.

He closes his eyes briefly, before turning to face him one more time.

“Hey, I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

He can only imagine what Oliver has told him. This guy must think he's the worst scum of the earth. A guy who could have half the planet at his feet with no complications, chose to hurt the one guy who didn't deserve any of it.

“Look, if you care about the guy at all, don't ever come back here.”

And then he's gone and Connor chuckles because how is this even his life? When did he become the big cosmic joke?

Is this karma catching up and collecting his dues?

He shakes his head, swinging the bouquet back and forth as he exits the building.

On the way home he walks past an old woman, her shoulders hunched, looking sad, and probably on her way back home.

That night he will dream of Oliver in someone else's arms. And when he sits up in bed, hugging his pillow and holding back a broken sob, he will think of her, and of how much that sadness will be reflected on his face – only amplified, because the wound is still so recent.

But, for now, he hands her the flowers and gives her a small sad smile before walking away.

He's hoping the cosmic scale will accept that selfless peace offering and bring him a better day.

And, who knows, maybe one day, if he's lucky enough, it will bring him Oliver back, too.


End file.
